


Overreaction

by daydreamsonacloudyday



Series: Isabel Cousland [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2043948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydreamsonacloudyday/pseuds/daydreamsonacloudyday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isabel still worries about her and Alistair’s safety even though the Blight is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Overreaction

**Author's Note:**

> • This takes place the same day as _Offer Me_ , right after the archdemon was slain (technically a few days after because both Isabel and Alistair were knocked out for a few days after the battle).  
> • When Isabel's father appeared during the Gauntlet, he didn't give her the random necklace you get, he gave her a necklace that belonged to her mother. It seemed more personal (and more magic-y since that whole quest was… interesting).  
> • Both Isabel and Alistair killed the archdemon. They didn't know if the Dark Ritual would work, so after an argument he ran at it first and did the whole slice-the-neck-open thingy, and she ran after him and stabbed it in the head, finishing it off.

Isabel stared at her reflection in the mirror of her vanity, her eyes drawn to the pendant falling above the décolletage of her dress. A little vial of darkspawn blood hanging on a simple cord, meant as a reminder of those who didn't make it as far as she did. For Isabel, it reminded her of _everything_ she had lost—her family, her home, and almost her life.

She had lost _so much_ , but by some miracle, she got Fergus back. And she still had Alistair.

But she almost lost him as well… too many times to count. The entire Blight was filled with occasions she thought would take him from her, from simple fights, to the Landsmeet, to the archdemon. _That_ was still fresh in her memory—the sight of him running at the behemoth of a creature in an attempt to sacrifice himself for her and the sake of Ferelden. He was a fool, but so was she, because she ran right after him and killed the thing herself in a desperate attempt to keep him alive.

She had no way of knowing _that ritual_ would actually work, but it did, and they both survived. Half the country was in shambles, but the Blight was _over_. She was a hero, her brother was alive, and she was engaged to the future king, the man she loved… she could have her happy ending.

But Isabel still felt apprehension settling in the pit of her stomach.

She untied the cord holding the vial of darkspawn blood around her neck, placing it on the vanity before her. That part of her life was over, and she didn't want to remember what she had lost anymore. Besides, it wasn't very befitting of a lady to walk around wearing a vial of _blood_.

With a sigh, Isabel pulled out her mother's necklace, the Cousland sigil etched into the pendant. She didn't know how the specter of her father had gotten it, but then again, the entirety of the Gauntlet was a strange experience.

A knock on the door startled her out of her reverie, and she quickly made her way to it. "Izzy?" came Alistair's voice. "Are you decent?"

She opened the door and he just stared as he took her in, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"You're gaping," Isabel pointed out, biting back a grin.

"I can't help it," he replied, his fingers lightly tracing over the lace sleeves of her dress. "Maker's breath, Isabel, you're beautiful."

"I told you I look better in a dress than I do in armor."

"You always look good, love," Alistair started. "I, on the other hand, look ridiculous." She quirked an eyebrow at him, and he nodded. "I look like a court jester, not the future king," he said, uncomfortably shifting on his feet as she raked her eyes over him. A smile spread across her face at his outfit—simple breeches and a leather doublet, complete with gold buttons and embroidery, over a long-sleeved shirt. Isabel had only ever seen him in armor, or loose, casual shirts, and _Maker_ , did he look amazing in his new finery. "I can't tell if you're smiling because I look good, or because I look like a fool," he muttered nervously, scratching the back of his head.

"You do not look like a fool," she breathed, running her hand up over the soft leather covering his chest before resting it above his heart. "You look _very_ handsome."

"Oh, good," he said, relieved, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. His gaze traveled over her again, his brows furrowing when his eyes landed on her chest. "You're not wearing your Warden pendant…"

"Proper ladies don't walk around wearing darkspawn blood around their necks," she replied. Isabel tore her gaze from him, glancing over to her vanity. "It brings back bad memories," she murmured. "These past months as a Warden… it's over, and I don't want to think about all the bad things that happened."

"It wasn't _all_ bad," he muttered.

Isabel met his gaze again, sighing and offering him a small smile as she placed her hand on his face. "You're right… we had our good moments." In all honesty, she probably wouldn't have made it as far as she did without him. For the longest time he was her support system, the person she could count on to have her back no matter what… but now things were changing. "But, like I said, the Blight's over," she stated pulling away from him and returning to her vanity. "We're starting a new chapter in our lives, and this one doesn't involve fighting darkspawn. We've got to deal with the nobles instead."

"I'd rather face the darkspawn," Alistair muttered, stepping up behind her, his arms slinking around her waist.

"I know, but this is our duty," she said, running her fingers over her mother's amulet. "Mother always said, 'duty first.'"

"May I?" he asked, his eyes finding hers in the mirror. Isabel nodded and he took the necklace and clasped it around her neck, his fingers tracing the pendant before straying to the scar on her shoulder, the faint white lines on her skin visible past the hem of her dress. Mother also said ladies didn't have scars. She would repeat it over and over again whenever Isabel would insist on sparring with Ser Gilmore. It wasn't that she didn't want her to fight—her parents encouraged her to learn how to properly defend herself—she just didn't want things to get carried away and lead to an accident.

"I can't go out like this," Isabel stated, shaking her head.

"Like what?" Alistair asked, his brows knitting together in confusion.

She whirled around to face him, shooting him a glare. "It's this _scar_ , Alistair. Ladies don't have _scars_. I can't walk around the palace like this!" She slipped from his grasp, biting her lip as she started to pace.

"You just killed an archdemon and _this_ is what scares you? That people won't think you're a lady because of one small scar?" he said incredulously, quirking an eyebrow at her. "Don't you think you're overreacting?" Isabel opened her mouth to speak but quickly shut it, biting her lip again as she looked away from him. "This… isn't about the scar… is it?" he muttered. Alistair placed his fingers under her chin and lifted her face towards his, his amber eyes boring into hers as he studied her. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Losing you," she breathed. "You almost died four days ago, Ali. We _both_ did. How am I supposed to sit here and play dress up for Eamon and the other nobles when I almost lost you?"

"Oh, Izzy… I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, cupping her face in his hands. She jerked away from him and shot him another glare, tears in her eyes.

"But you were!" Her chest heaved as she fought back tears, a knot forming in her throat. "You said _goodbye_ , and then you ran right at the archdemon. You were going to leave me!"

"And _you_ weren't going to leave _me_?" he shot back angrily. "Do you know what it felt like when I turned around and saw you stabbing it in the head?" He grabbed her arms, his wide eyes meeting hers. "I was terrified, Isabel! I thought you were going to die on me."

"But it was okay for _you_ to die, instead," she replied bitterly, sniffling as tears started to fall down her cheeks, images of his dead body from nightmares flashing through her mind. "You _know_ that I know what it feels like, and I _hate_ it. Feeling so completely and utterly _helpless_ , unable to do _anything_ as the one thing you love most in the world is _ripped_ away from you…" Isabel shook her head, choking back a sob. "I couldn't just stand there and do _nothing_."

"I know, love," he said softly, pulling her into his embrace. "I know." Alistair held her tight as she started to cry in earnest, her face buried in his neck, hands grasping him desperately. He whispered words of love to her, over and over, while rubbing her back to try and soothe her. "We're safe now, Izzy. That's all that matters."

"But we're _not_ ," she said, pulling her face back and wiping her tears with the heels of her hands. "I thought I was safe in Highever, but I was wrong… and everyone died."

"That wasn't your fault."

"My father left me in charge, Alistair," she protested. "He left everyone under my care and protection—the guards, the staff, _my family_ … and I couldn't save them. I had _one_ job, running the household, something I'd been trained to do my _whole_ _life_ , and I failed _miserably_." Isabel swallowed hard, holding back more tears. "What if I can't do this either? What if the nobles revolt against us and another civil war starts? What if _you_ die this time?"

"And here I was, thinking _I_ was the only one worried about the nobles," Alistair muttered sarcastically. She made a strangled noise somewhere between a huff, a snort, and a laugh, biting her lip to keep quiet. He smiled softly at her, brushing away a loose strand of her hair before resting his hand on her face, his thumb gently rubbing her cheek. "What happened in Highever wasn't your fault, love," he stated firmly, like he had a million times before. "It was Howe's, and he paid for it."

"I know," Isabel sighed. "But I'm still scared. I just want us to be happy and safe… but I don't know if that's going to happen."

"Well, as long as we're together, we'll be happy. And since I have no intention of ever leaving your side, that should be taken care of," he said, that lopsided smile of his so infectious that she started to smile herself. "And Eamon has an entire platoon of guards just ready and waiting to follow us around everywhere we go, so we'll be safe, too."

"But if the nobles—"

"Were you at the same Landsmeet I was?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. "You can handle the nobles, Izzy, I've seen it with my own eyes." Alistair's gaze drifted down to her mother's necklace before meeting her eyes again. "You're a Cousland. You _were_ trained for this, and you can do it."

"You have a lot of faith in me," she murmured, and his smile grew into a grin.

"Everyone's got faith in you, love," he chirped. "You're the Hero of Ferelden! If the nobles try anything just bring _that_ up!" Isabel giggled before shaking her head and biting her lip. Alistair moved closer to her, resting his forehead against hers, his other hand coming up to join the first, both cupping her face. "I _do_ have faith in you, Izzy. Just like you have faith that I'm not going to screw up the entire kingdom."

"You'll do fine," she said, brining her hand up over his, nuzzling his face with hers.

He sighed, his breath tickling her lips. "Look, I don't know the nobility like you do, but I've got your back. I promise."

"And I've got yours. Always," she breathed. He nudged his lips forward until they pressed against hers in a tender, loving kiss.

"You're okay now?" he asked tentatively. She nodded and he let out a relieved breath. "Good, because I'm pretty sure Eamon's going to have a long line of nobles waiting for us when we leave this room, and I have no idea who they all are."

Isabel laughed before planting another deep kiss on his lips, a wordless thank you for being there for her when she needed him most. When she pulled back, she shot him a mischievous grin. "You know, you'll have to learn all their names before your coronation."

He jerked back, eyes wide. "But that's in… in three days!"

"You'll also have to learn how to dance, for the party afterwards. And of course all the proper protocols…"

"Oh, Maker," he groaned. "I'm never going to learn it all in time."

"You underestimate the ability of your teacher," Isabel replied.

"You're going to teach me?" Alistair asked, hope budding in his eyes.

"Eamon's going to insist _someone_ do it… it might as well be me."

"I'm feeling better about this already," he said cheerfully. She rolled her eyes and he kissed her cheek, her heart warming at the gesture. She stepped up to her vanity and wiped away her smeared makeup, quickly applying it again. Alistair offered her his arm, and she looped hers through his. "Ready?"

Isabel took a deep breath, focusing on the positive things Alistair said as opposed to her troubles. She could do this. "Yes, I'm ready," she announced. "Are you?"

"No," he said with a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "But you're going to fix that soon enough…"

"Let's go," she replied with a giggle. "The sooner we get through the rest of the day, the sooner we can retire to the privacy of your chambers."

"Sounds like a plan," Alistair said with a nod. They went to leave, but Isabel stopped them at the last moment. "Oh no, don't tell me you're backing out now. Because I'm following you if you do."

"No, I'm not backing out," she said softly, staring up into his eyes. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you. More than anything."

"And I, you," he replied, that adoring look of his in his eyes. "Always."

With that, they finally left the room, stepping into the next chapter of their lives… together.


End file.
